


Stripped [Down To The Bones]

by EllieCarina



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: AU, But Mostly Smut, F/M, Filth, Kink Fic, Public Masturbation, Public Sex, Sex Club, Sex Club AU, Shameless Smut, Smut, So Dirty, To be honest, Virgin Kylo Ren, Voyeurism, and substance abuse, canon-divergent, coruscant red light district, don't read if you're not into this, hux/rey - Freeform, masturbartion, oh deer, slight allusions to dubcon, smut with plot, virgin kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5851582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieCarina/pseuds/EllieCarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Show your face, she thinks and tilts her head. He remains impassive, which strangely irks her. She shouldn’t care, so she flicks her fingers harder against her skin and moans when her vision blurs from the touch. She bucks up her hips and arches her back, not because it feels so much better but because it’s what they want to see. With this though, she must have slipped from the view of the masked man because he rocks forward in his chair. She looks at the visor again, seizing him up, and narrows her eyes at him."</p><p>In an unforeseen change of events, Rey has wound up in the Red Light District of Coruscant. Kylo Ren winds up in the crowd one night and things happen.</p><p>Shameless smut. || Canon-Divergent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say in my defence. Except that there will be a chapter 2.
> 
> As always bet'd by the wonderful vicious-rhythm.

When Rey was ten years old, Unkar Plutt, who had sort of fostered her, in his way, moved his base of operation from Nima Outpost on Jakku to Coruscant - and therein shifted his focus from gathering and selling spare parts for machinery and spaceships to gathering and selling labour. A special kind of labour. Rey had never questioned it, didn’t have reasons or outside opinions to counter Plutt’s view of the world. Anything people will buy, is worth offering and in his very special business endeavour, money came fast and steady because in a galaxy so stuffed with vices and desires, two things will always sell: booze and sex. Plutt offered his customers both.

 

Rey started out shrubbing the place, cleaning up after the night’s crowd and re-setting everything for the day dwellers. Those were always fewer but usually a lot less appealing as well; sad men and creatures of any species imaginable, that had no other place to spend the sunshine hours but their hole-in-the-wall locale in the red light district. “District” in Coruscant’s case was also a very small term for what would be an entire country on other planets. You could walk for days and days and could get “fucked every way to Taungsday”, as Plutt liked to put it, on basically every corner. 

 

Rey has grown up around sex, hearing it drift from across the halls when she slept and hearing the girls talk about it all the time. It lost any deeper meaning while as she got older and discovered her own pleasures, it even became somewhat of a reprieve. Touching herself in the dark of her room to the sounds around her. Still, when she turned sixteen and Plutt thought to put her lithe body to better use than scrubbing toilets, she didn’t want anything to do with it. She wanted to be able to decide who got to do what with her and she fought Plutt on it vehemently. Right until he threatened to put her out on the street. He argued solidly that in their corner of the world, the only thing that she could hope to make enough money with was precisely what he wanted her to do as well - and at least with him, she could count on leniency and a safe roof over her head. Severely enforced by a battalion of security workers Plutt kept around night and day. 

 

And so Rey agreed and spent the first year of her new job hating nearly every second of it. With time, however, she picked up some habits that helped her deal with what went against her nature so harshly, she felt all but lost inside her own body for the better part of her waking days. All the girls do variations on the theme: alcohol and drugs and a hyper-sexualized state of frenzy as the general headspace to work in. Rey drinks  _ tea _ . It’s a special kind of brew, one that will probably kill her one day because it’s effects are too severe not to be harmful somewhere down the road. They call it simply “The Potion” and it makes them somewhat hazy, like some of the more mellow drugs, a little apathetic. Still, the most imminent and most important effect, is that it makes one blindly  _ horny _ , for lack of any better term. Rey has eventually stopped working without it. 

 

She works three nights a week and one day shift every two weeks. This is a perk of her position as one of the top earners. She’s very glad for that. She handles nights better. On a regular shift, she dances in turn with the others who work as well, in one of the the three themed rooms on a little stage with a pole and then collects passes.

 

This is their way of paying. The passes are basically just red or blue cards that fit easily in a hand. They are bought up front at a set, high-end price (“Because you are high-end girls”) and are then flashed to one of the girls, indicating a transaction. The girls collect the passes and get paid accordingly. Blue is for I-I, meaning Instant Intercourse, right there, either on stage or on the patron’s lap. Red is for Privacy and it means that the customers are brought to a room to complete the deal there. It’s an endless parade of blues and reds and Rey has stopped keeping a tally what colour she gets more. It’s just work. She hates it, but she manages. The worst parts are the first nights back after resting for two days. Sometimes around noon, she starts getting nauseous at the thought of having to do it all over again and this tends to get so tedious, sometimes she gets a cup of The Potion hours before her first dance. Tonight, although the morning was bad, she has held out until now. She steals a cup from a sideboard where one of the others has abandoned it, Shereen, judging from the black lipstick and fills it up. Her throat is long used to the burning sensation the tea leaves in its wake.

 

“Rey,” Tia says, exiting the stage with a blue pass wedged between the straps of her lingerie, “you’re up. Place is crawling with First Order guys. Should be a good night...they’re all repressed as fuck.”

Rey gulps the rest of the tea down, takes a bracing breath and readjusts her costume for the last time before she goes out.

 

The light on stage is a soft, dim purple and the faces in the crowd take a while to come into focus. Rey does her usual show of stripping out of heaps of flimsy, silky and almost see-through fabric and it’s muscle memory, automatic. She has done this so many times, she could do the routine while half asleep and has done it in even less aware states. She feels her head spin with the effects of the concoction, welcomes the familiar light-headedness. Discomfort is replaced by apathy and, gnawing at the edges, piercing lust that wells up low in her groin. Once it’s fully manifested, she’ll be better.

 

It’s a mixed crowd tonight, some regulars, some newcomers, made up of the endless stream of visitors Coruscant is flooded with on a daily basis. There is a bunch of males from any given species, some of them she can’t even name and she hopes she will not have to work on any of those during her shift. Usually they go for someone of their own kind but some of them have weird tastes and sometimes, there is no suitable match available and Rey has to contend with different anatomies, different mechanisms and kinks altogether and that’s seldom pleasant, let alone in any way arousing. Still, there are many humans around tonight and she believes she’ll have her hands full with them as it is.

 

The dark clad First Order men are scattered around the room, leering at her as the last of her clothing drops and she sways her hips, breathing through the dizzyness. She is almost past the point of caring. Any minute now and everything she is will be replaced by mindless desire. She slowly sinks down to her knees, the friction between her legs at the movement already making her slick and she won’t need much more winding up.  _ Good _ .

 

Smack dab in the middle of the front row sits a red-headed man with even features and a wholly unlikeable look on his face. He watches with a glint in his eye as if he despises her and everything she represents, but lusts for her all the same. They all do. He shows her the blue pass with a flick of a pale wrist peeking from between sleeve and glove once their eyes connect and she is not surprised.

 

If you go for blue, you need to follow only one rule and it’s heavily imposed by security. There is no touching, other than of what parts  _ must _ touch and Rey is glad for it now. She doesn’t want his hostile, pale hands anywhere near her body. Slowly, she raises a seductive eyebrow at him; the same old same old. It’s a question they all understand. 

_ Right now or do you wanna watch for a little while longer? _

 

He gives her a disgustingly condescending shake of the head, to  _ go on _ and so she does. This is the part she hates the most, even beside drowsy arousal because it’s making her so vulnerable. However it’s what she needs to do, a necessary part of the routine. Without it, she can kiss her stable ration of portions goodbye. In a fluid motion, she sits back and spreads her legs, baring her innermost private parts for a room full of people to gawk at and brings her hand to where her thighs meet.

 

She allows herself a second of privacy, letting her head fall back as skin meets skin and takes the first sensation for herself. The simple touch sets her off and she is back in the head space she needs to be able to do all this and live. She becomes a pulsing beacon for other people’s desires, falling into her own as the last resort that it is.

 

When she looks back, the ginger is staring holes into her body and she looks away. He already flashed his pass, so she diverts her attention back to the room to maybe entice some other prospects for the night. Those who are not distracted by their own entertainment are with her, but no one looks at her face anymore while her fingers work expertly between quickly drenching folds. She shivers and sighs.  _ Yes, right there _ .

 

When her once over brings her back to the center of the room, she notices the man in the mask for the first time. 

 

True, men with masks or helmets on aren’t uncommon. There’ve been legions of Stormtroopers alone who stay for hours never even taking them off. She supposes it’s equal parts conditioning and reaping the benefits of anonymity. Some of them who buy red passes even leave them on for that. 

 

And Rey never minds. When she does what she does, she doesn’t need faces. She even likes it because she can just imagine how they look beneath and it helps. She tells herself underneath the visors sit kind eyes and that makes everything easier. Yet, in the present case, something about this very specific man in that very specific mask who sits several rows behind her next customer is alluring past the point of explanation. He sits perfectly still; the only thing that moves are his gloved fingers digging into the faded cushions of the armrests. Rey leans up a bit to see him better and his helmet twitches almost imperceptibly. He’s seen her move and she realizes with a start that he might’ve really been looking at her face this whole time and not at what she’s  _ doing _ . 

 

She ponders that if his eyes did stay on hers until now, maybe they really  _ are _ kind. 

 

_ Show your face _ , she thinks and tilts her head. He remains impassive, which strangely irks her. She shouldn’t care, so she flicks her fingers harder against her skin and moans when her vision blurs from the touch. She bucks up her hips and arches her back, not because it feels so much better but because it’s what they want to see. With this though, she must have slipped from the view of the masked man because he rocks forward in his chair. She looks at the visor again, seizing him up, and narrows her eyes at him.

 

_ Take it off _ , she thinks. 

This time, he obliges. It’s a swift move, expert and trained. Two gloved hands come up, press some invisible buttons and next thing she knows, the mask is gone.

 

She did not know what she expected but her breath catches when she sees him, irritation fluttering across her features and for a second, her hand on herself pauses. He looks so  _ young _ . His face is long, slightly out of proportion but open and expressive. She thinks he is hiding rather large ears behind his wavy, neck-length black hair and there would be something very human and endearing about this. His dark eyes are clouded with want, that she can tell from afar but they’re also focussed and burning into her skull.

_ Are you happy now _ , they seem to glower. She is.

 

Only now that she can see his face, does she slip in a finger. It’s a tried motion, one that her body responds to in a common fashion, closing in on the intrusion, revelling in the friendly touch. She catches her lip between her teeth and gives the room a once-over again. The crowd, they live for this stuff and she sees them all squirm and shift in their seats. Not him though, he is positively motionless, frozen in his slightly forward hunch. She looks back at him, thinking she might actually finish for real on stage for once instead of just pretending but then a jerky movement in her peripheral view snaps her out of the moment.

 

It’s the ginger who unzips his pants, fumbling around with his eyes trained on her moving fingers. Once he has freed himself of the breeches, she can see soft pink skin peeking up and he strokes up and down his cock leisurely, shameless. It’s not a big deal here and he is not the only one. His eyes flicker up to hers, make contact and then he glances back down, then back at her with a twitchy nod of his stoney features.

_ Now _ , they say.

 

Rey leans forward, then moves into a crawl and takes the rest of the stage stalking, like an animal. He doesn’t stop touching himself until she steps between his thighs and the no-hands-near-her-body rule is enforced by a shove against his shoulders from one of the burly security details in passing. Now Rey is poised to begin. From beneath the seat, she gets a wrapper. They’re stored in hidden compartments in each seat that have to be refilled every night. A long time ago, she’d used to count the men she put those on but that eventually became more tedious than anything else. The red-haired man is firm under her quick fingers and jerks slightly at the touch. But as soon as she has straddled his hips, hovering while she positions him and doesn’t have to look down at what she is doing anymore, she glances past his head to find the  _ other _ anew.

 

He is at the edge of his seat now, face flushed and she fails to read what else mingles in his expression beside lust and hunger. She parts her lips, letting her mouth fall open in more show than anticipation and sinks down on the ginger’s cock. It’s a good one, firm and straight, not too long and not too thick. And the motions come easy. Her body is on fire at the touch because the Potion is kicking in full throttle now. She hums when she starts rocking her hips back and forth, enjoying his length in her, enjoying the angle she conducts him into. It truly is a good one, better than her fingers anyway and he’s rock hard.  _ Fuck. _

 

Usually, she would lean back now, grabbing hold of the man’s knees for purchase and also so that people can see but this time she leans forward, latching on to the stranger’s shoulders so she can keep looking at the other man. 

 

She thinks he might be breaking the chair and his knuckles must be entirely white underneath the leather of his gloves with how hard he is grabbing the armrest. Rey goes slower, finding that she likes this. She likes his focus, how he studies her face and eyes, how he doesn’t look at her tits at all. She likes how she is riding a cock that isn’t his but he stares at her as if it was.

 

There is something between them, a sort of static that spans the room and whenever she doesn’t look at him, it’s just alibi glances for the other patron’s benefit that never last long. While she fucks herself on that other inconsequential dick, she wonders what he would feel like, wonders if maybe there’s a red pass sitting somewhere underneath all those black robes he is wearing. One that he might want to use on her. Rey would like that, curious for this stoic, poised man and she wonders briefly if it’s the Potion or herself. That would be a new one. The room starts spinning slowly either way. She is so ridiculously turned on right now, she doesn’t know what to do with herself and just slams down on the body beneath her harder.

 

Beside what that body can do for her own pleasure at this very moment, she doesn’t give a damn about it or the man who inhabits it. Her current comrade is merely a means to an end, a glorified dildo to satisfy this glaring need in the pit of her belly. And also as a stand in for this other, strange fellow that hasn’t blinked in minutes and now licks his lips and swallows in a way that shoots straight to her core. Rey picks up the pace. The drug is very potent today. She might even come before the guy does. 

 

She digs her fingernails into the thick fabric of the man’s uniform and he jerks upward, propelled by the action but also drawn to focus. It registers, from the corner of her eye how he becomes aware that she isn’t really paying attention to him and he twists his neck to see what she is looking at if it isn’t him, but the angle doesn’t permit it. Instead, he pushes up really hard and deep into her with something not unlike violence behind the thrust.

 

“Hey,” he growls and it’s the first time she hears his voice. It’s tightly controlled and she doesn’t like it much. But alas, the customer is king, so she graces him with her face and plays up the pleasure. It ebbs slightly now that she is looking at him. She doesn’t like how he sizes her up, as if she was a void, soulless piece of flesh only existing for him to stick his dick in. She is less than nothing to him, she knows this in her gut. So she clenches her walls, slightly adjusts her angle around him deliberately and without fail, his eyes bulge and his head rolls back.

 

He will be busy handling this for a second and she can reclaim her latest trail of view. She’d been very concentrated on a pair of full, sensual lips. She frowns when she finds them in a thin line. Her silent, dark observer is displeased, and has shifted where he sits. One of his hands falls from an almost reach into his lap and ghosts there, somewhere near his inner thigh but he won’t touch himself. Rey levels her glare at him, challenges him by way of rocking harder on the man she sits on.

 

_ This could be you _ , she thinks and wants it to be so loud that he can hear it.  _ This could be you for the whole night if you’re not cheap. _

She moans then, loudly, because her mind, fueled by sex and desire, spins endless scenes wrapped in and around this mum, mysterious fellow and she wants it badly, so much she squirms even beside already being filled up and riding  _ hard _ .

 

Ever so slightly, she can see him move his palm upward and in and no sooner than he has arched against his hand, with just the tiniest tilt of his hips. His eyes fly shut while his mouth opens and then everything falls from his face while a strangled groan breaks free from his throat that reaches right over to her.  _ Heavens and hells. _

 

You’d think a guy coming in his pants just watching you from rows away would make him seem undignified but for Rey, it turns an invisible switch. Faster than anticipated and barely prepared for it, she comes undone, vision whiting out and head falling into her neck. Predictably, with her walls twitching and trembling around him, the ginger doesn’t last after that.  _ Yes, yes, yes. More. _

 

Rey climbs down from the man quickly and is immediately attended to by one of the other girls, handing her a drink and a robe. From the corner of her eye she can see the ginger gather back his wits, then pry the wrapper off his now limp dick and she still doesn’t give a shit about that guy. She wants the  _ other one _ and she looks around for him, deliberating if she should just ask him if he wants to buy a red pass. Because despite her orgasm being just minutes old, she lusts for him with a fire that near surpasses anything she has ever felt under the influence. But when she searches for him in his seat, she finds it vacant. 

 

He left.  _ Why? _

 

She is  _ disappointed _ , ridiculously so. Who is going to satisfy this itch she has now?

She pouts and drinks the entire liquor-mix held out for her in one gulp. Fine then, she’ll just gonna have to collect some red passes to get  _ him _ out of her system. 

 

But as the night drags on, she gets six red ones and another blue one but they all leave her wanting for the man who’d taken off his mask for her.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooookay, here it is, finally. but it isn't quite as kinky as the one before, i hope you'll like it anyway (it has feels instead)
> 
> thanks to the wonderful vicious-rhythm for once again beta-ing this for me <3

Rey knows he’ll be back. He just has to. By the fourth day without the man with the mask showing up, she is very frustrated with the fact that she has all but forgotten his face. She dances and she drinks and she fucks and the whole time, she tries to remember how he looked at her when she put on her show, how his expression twisted into something more animal than man when he came into his pants. The thought alone is enough to make her forget that she truly, honestly hates what she does. The thought alone makes her shiver with lust even before she has a drop of the Potion. 

 

He is still not back by the sixth night and Rey tries hard to pry her brain away from the cloaked figure, fading in her memory. Whatever. Whatever if she never sees him again. It’s just a guy, she’s had so many guys before. One more or less won’t make a difference. And surely, he’d just be like all the others. He’d fuck her as if she was a thing rather than a person and then leave her, just like everybody else has left her. She wasn’t going to be so pathetic as to believe that her life would ever be anything other than a parade of people who will use her up until she is nothing but a shell, going through the unchanging, ever tedious motions. This man would never have been special, the connection she’d felt was a folly, a fantasy and it was good that he never showed his face again. She doesn’t need him, she doesn’t need anybody. 

 

A month later, she barely thinks of him anymore. But as she spins on a pole and mid-turn, a mess of black robes catches her eye, she nearly loses her grip on the steel and her body freezes. He’s back and how could she have forgotten that face? She finishes her move, bending gracefully around the pole, unhooking her leg and getting back to her full feet. She gives the room the obligatory once-over glance but then whips her head around to him, just to make sure she isn’t imagining things.

 

He is still there, standing tall and awkward, maskless in the doorway and he is staring at her, features unreadable. He sees her see him and she can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips. It feels a little like he came back for her. That’s all she ever wanted anybody to do. She tilts her head as if in question and he understands, fumbling with his belt without taking his eyes off of her and from the corner of her eyes she sees crimson beneath his fingertips. A crimson pass is the most expensive thing you can buy at Plutt’s. It’s a suite in the lower levels of the club situated on an elevated platform within a larger building over 1000 stories high. The best view of the red light district and as many girls as you like for one whole night. Something about his blazing glare tells her that he won’t want any distractions though. He’ll want her for himself. No others. 

 

Rey walks sultrily down the stage, measuring her steps carefully so as to not fall into a run, and gives the MC a heads-up that she’s just gotten a  _ crimson _ . He nods but Rey doesn’t linger. Her dark, mysterious stranger awaits. Oddly, she is nervous as she walks up to him, despite the fact that she has done this countless times and, if you’d believe it, with other specimen who were far better looking than him, more symmetrical, less tense. But no one, not one single sentient being had ever looked at her quite like him before. Right this moment, he stares at her as if she was the moon and, approaching him, she forgets for a second that she is nothing but a courtesan with no past and no future.

 

When she stands before him, she thinks she should say something but he seems positively petrified and so she neglects words and takes him by the hand again. His hand is covered by a thick, black leather glove but she could swear he flinches beneath it as her fingers close around his. She pulls him gently after her, through the dimly lit main room all the way to the elevators and in there, the light is finally somewhat bright enough to really look at that remarkable, open face up close. 

 

His brows are thin, the cheekbones sharp and high and his eyes are small, deep-set and very alive. His soft brown orbs fix the elevator doors stoically and she thinks she can hear his heart racing away from him. He is nervous too. Good to know. Standing beside him, she studies his clean-shaven profile, the arched, slightly crooked, narrow nose sitting on top of full, sensual lips set in an eternal pout and she notices that he is barely breathing. He refuses to look at her and she squeezes the hand she is still holding lightly. That seems to force out the last bit of breath he’d held onto and he inhales sharply while his eyes flutter closed for a moment. 

 

With a muted ‘bing’ the elevator doors pop open into a corridor and at the far end, Rey sees the green light, indicating that the Moonrail Suite is unoccupied yet. She is pleased with this. The Moonrail is her second favorite, sensible furniture, not at all flashy, with pristine dark blue sheets and not a single red light anywhere. Plus the view across the hover-way is spectacular. The flashing shuttles and speeders look like an endless swarm of fireflies scurrying through the night. The man follows her fast steps and watches her quick, small fingers punch in the code that allows them entrance.

 

When the door whooshes shut, the first moment of silence is thick and almost uncomfortable because they are both so tense. But then Rey remembers that she has done this a thousand times and with even quieter folk. If he insists on keeping his mouth shut through the entire thing, she’ll work with that as well. Although she does want to hear his voice, at least once - to complete the picture. So when she has led him to the king size bed and has him sit down, she turns to him, takes a couple of steps back and studies his eyes. They are loud enough to maybe make talking unnecessary after all.

 

She remembers briefly that he is First Order, and must be high-ranking if he can afford a crimson pass. So he might very likely not be a good man at all. But he doesn’t feel truly evil to her either. He’s nothing like the ginger he’d been there with last, that much she can tell just by breathing the same air as him. He is still averting his eyes and she ponders if he is as young as he looks. From afar, she would have estimated him pushing thirty but from so close, he could be younger.

 

“I’m Rey,” she says because that usually does the job of breaking the ice. He finally glances up at her then and when he answers, his voice is raspy and catches not once, but twice in his throat.

“Kylo Ren,” he says, low and a bit nasal but altogether very pleasant. “But you could…”

And then he stops, only to look away again. 

Rey takes a step forward and another until she can reach his cheek with her outstretched palm. His face jerks back to her, into the touch and he is trembling, his eyes instantly swimming with liquid fire that burns its way into her groin. She is barely touching him and he is already set alight. It’s exhilarating in its suddenness alone. 

 

“I could what?” she asks him softly.

“You can call me Ben,” he all but whispers, “If you like. Not outside. But for tonight, in  _ here _ , it might be...better.”

“I’ll call you whatever you like,” she says encouragingly. “I’m at your disposal.”

 

His forehead scrunches together at this like a shot. 

Oh. So he is one of those who don’t like to be reminded that they’re paying for and receiving a  _ service _ . She will keep that in mind. He wants it to feel  _ real _ and as this weird static energy between them hums on, Rey thinks that he might be the first one with whom it might feel real for her too. 

 

“I’ve wondered if you would be back,” she says when he stays silent but then peeks up at her again after she’s spoken.

“You remember me?” He sounds and looks so vulnerable, Rey has to clasp his shoulder harder so she doesn’t do it over her mouth or heart.

“I do,” she says. “That doesn’t happen every day, whatever it was.”

“So you felt it too?” There is elation behind his eyes and something that seems almost like hope. She doesn’t know what ‘it’ is and he probably doesn’t know either. But he has noticed it too, that connection that sprung up and somehow, just in knowing this, she feels infinitely less alone than before. She nods.

 

“What will you have me do?” It’s the standard question, the one she is required to ask by protocol but faced with him, it feels stale on her lips and almost inappropriate. His befuddled expression in response only underlines this notion. He takes a second to gather himself and then something clicks in his face, hardens almost imperceptibly.

“Take off your clothes,” he says, even lower than before and it’s the kind of tone laced with authority and force that tells her he is used to giving orders and has likely very seldom been denied anything on top of this. There is ease in the way he issues the command and it makes his own hold on his shoulders loosen a bit. 

 

Rey complies, because it’s what she does.

 

She isn’t wearing much anyway, just a robe over a thin breastband and a slip. She takes her time undressing because the customers like that usually but she can’t draw it out for very long. Once she is naked, she straightens her spine, standing tall so he can look at her. Not that he hasn’t seen this before. Not like he hasn’t seen her spread open, winding herself up to near release before. He still stares at her as if it’s the first time he’s ever seen a woman. And beside herself, she feels her skin flush as if it was the first time someone ever sees her. The man, Ben, swallows hard and goes half crosseyed to get everything into view at once. Rey has to smile at that and takes a step backward to make it easier for him.

 

“Now you,” she says but he goes rigid.

“No,” it’s a shot and very adamant and she kind of wants to argue that this will be a very long and complicated night of he refuses to undress but something in his voice and face sets an alarm bell off in her head and she decides against it. This is not a man to do things he does not want to do because you taunt him into them. Something tells her that he is not one to take lightly to taunts in general. 

“Can you,” he begins and then clears his throat, “can you touch yourself again?”

 

It is not a foreign request but her insides still bubble along with the low growl from the back of his mouth as he speaks. She strides over to the left side of the bed, climbs in lithely and sits down, back against the headboard, and watches him twist his back to look at her before parting her legs. They don’t let them have body hair here, so he gets the prime seat and non-restricted view to  _ everything _ . She doubts he would care even if she was covered in baby hairs head to toe.

 

She starts slow, kneading her right breast between her fingers, catching her nipple and waiting for it to pebble before working her way across her chest to repeat the motion but she doesn’t go lower until he has fully turned around, crossing his legs, of all things, and fumbles at his high collar. He must feel the heat too, yet she doubts it comes close to hers. 

 

Her own body calls to her and she finds herself reminded of the first time she has seen these eyes watch her pleasure herself, only it’s much more intimate now, much more immediate. He is still remarkably more intent on watching her face than her downward motions, only glancing down briefly when fingers and puffy, pink flesh meet and then right back to her twisting features. She can’t shake the sensation of being studied, being catalogued, but she doesn’t mind. Her head clouds quickly with the expert strokes of her fingers and her toes twitch. She moans and closes her eyes and opens them again when the weight on the mattress shifts. He has moved in closer and his bottom lip is red with how hard he must have bit down on it.

 

“Can I touch you?” he asks breathlessly and it takes a second to register through the jumble of want that is churning up in her belly. “Can you tell me how?”

“Come. Here,” she bites out and then reluctantly removes her fingers from her center. 

He obliges, scoots near on his knees and tentatively, almost hesitantly settles between her knees.

“Take off those things,” she orders, nodding towards his gloves and he hurries to heed her command, “and come  _ closer _ .”

He does, and moves in on her until he can support himself against the headboard and navigate his arm downward. He halts before touching her, searching her eyes and he looks like a teenager, all flushed cheeks and frayed nerves when she nods the go-ahead to him. He pushes too hard at first but then, after she withdraws her hips just a fraction, he releases the pressure and goes softer, more deliberate. Rey gasps. 

 

He breathes harder too but keeps steadily at his trial and error, flicking and rolling his digits against her drenched flesh, his eyes trained on her face the whole time. He is half gauging her reactions and half gaping at her as if he is deliberating if he might swallow her whole. 

“How does it feel?” he asks and it isn’t the kind of self-absorbed ‘Just tell me I am the best fuck you ever had’ shit she usually gets, no, he seems all but desperate for feedback, for  _ evaluation _ almost. Rey has to stifle and swallow a moan before she can answer.

“Good,” she breathes, “you’re a quick... _ oh _ ...study. You can go lower.”

 

And she tilts up her hips so he’ll know what she means. He has understood perfectly well and two of his long, elegant fingers slide into her heat effortlessly. She bucks into the touch, fervent and mindless and sighs loudly when he starts moving them in and out slow at first but then picking up momentum. And now  _ he _ moans as he watches her arch into his touch, a strangled, nearly subdued little sound and it’s almost enough to make her come all over his hand. He freezes when he feels her walls clench though and it throws her off.  _ Oh dear _ , if this is what she thinks it is, they’ll have a lot more bases to cover tonight.

 

He pulls away from her then, somewhat bewildered and she thinks he means to ask her what that was and how it works but he feels silly, that is written so clearly on his face, it could as well be in black letters, stapled to his forehead. Rey grabs hold of the hand he’s dropped and brings it to her face, sucking the index finger into her mouth, tasting herself and drawing his attention back to the moment. His eyes zero in on her lips and he writhes, fully able to pick up on the promise of this action.

 

When she releases his finger again, it comes out with an obscene ‘pop’ and she smiles scandalizing over to where he hovers, hunched above her body with his mouth hanging open and eyes bulging out of the sockets. 

“Let me see you,” she whispers and she doesn’t think she’s ever said that to a man in her life. He shakes his head and falls back onto his knees, creating distance between them and so she says it because now, if not earlier, it’s all so damn  _ obvious _ .

 

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

He sa ys nothing but his twitchy eyes looking away are all the answer she needs.

“Have you ever been naked in front of someone?”

Again nothing. And she nearly wants to cry. This strange man has never had sex before, has maybe not even experienced anything remotely like intimacy. Who grows into a man like that and has never been naked in front of someone. How did he stand it? Especially since he so blazingly craves to touch and to be touched. What happened to him?

 

“Ben?” She tries his name on her tongue, liking how it lingers on the ‘n’ just for a blink of an eye and then sits up to feather-lightly touch his jaw with the tips of her fingers. “I’ll help you. I promise you’ll get used to it.”

 

He is of course aware that the hard-on which is barely concealed under his robes - and the rest of what he has paid so much money to do - will have to be dealt with without all that restrictive fabric but he still seems reluctant. She wonders if it is just shyness or  _ caution _ as well. He seems to have a very hard time trusting people and an even harder time letting go of his tight control over himself and any given situation. Laying himself bare is probably nothing he is used to or even acquainted with.

“Stand up,” she beckons and moves first, grabbing his hand in the process and pulling him to his feet. “Don’t stop looking at me.”

 

He doesn’t. She thinks he might even found a way to look at her while she plucks the robe from his shoulder, over his head. Beneath it, he wears a thick, padded tunic that goes down to his mid-thighs. To get at that, she first has to fumble with the wide belt around his waist. After that has landed on the floor with a muted thud, she finds the hidden buttons of the tunic and unbuttons it, granting him a pause to adjust after each. He hasn’t really breathed yet and she can feel him strain with nerves. His bottom lip is caught firmly beneath his teeth again and he watches her with the alertness of an animal stalking its prey. It’s also the same hunger. 

 

Once the tunic goes, the rest of his clothes are relatively thin pants that sit underneath sturdy, ankle-high boots and an undershirt with layered sleeves and a high collar that must be so uncomfortable in this  _ heat _ . He doesn’t protest when she gets on her knees and pries the shoes and socks from his feet but when she rises again and snakes quick fingers underneath the hem of his long undergarment, he startles backward. 

 

“It’s okay,” she coos and tugs him closer by the fabric. His bare skin is hot to her touch and he tumbles over his breath when she rolls the shirt up  _ slowly _ . 

 

She feels before she sees that his stomach is toned, all hardened muscles rolling underneath pale skin. Her own heart rate and breathing spike at the sensation. Rey likes how he feels as she ghosts over ridges and lines of scars decking his chest but most strongly she notices him lean and sigh into the contact, the skin on skin that he seems so utterly unfamiliar with. She can almost see his cock twitch upward against the restriction of his breeches and he mewls all but pathetically.

 

The shirt is now all the way up, crumpled under his arms and reveals his triangular torso and she’ll have to get to her tiptoes to strip it off him entirely. Yet, when she starts to remove her hands, he catches them with one of his, splays his fingers over both with desperate pressure. She looks up to meet his eyes and his brow is furrowed in what must be exquisite pain. He doesn’t want to concede the contact just yet. In this moment, she wants to kiss him so badly it aches and throbs, from her lips down to her core. But she never kisses anyone. Kissing is not part of her job description and part of her own deeply set boundaries. So she restrains herself and instead pushes her palms into his chest, curling her fingertips as much as his grip on them allows. 

 

There’s a little ‘oh’ tumbling from his lips as his eyes drill into her skull. His intensity is making her dizzy. What will this face of his twist into once he’s buried deep inside her? She is impatient to find out but knows he needs more time. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says still, because if she doesn’t get him naked soon, she will explode. Her entire lower body throbs with want and she briefly wonders if it’s got anything at all to do with the drugs she took anymore.

 

The strange man allows it and after the shirt falls, she makes relatively quick work of his pants. She takes a little more time with his underwear. A trail of hairs guide her down and she makes sure to have as much fabric as possible brush the tip of his cock for friction as she pulls it down. Eager to watch him react to it, she arches her body in a thoroughly uncomfortable way so she can keep looking at his eyes fly shut and lips pout while pushing the last bit of clothing off of him. When she straightens up again, he stands before her with his blacks around his ankles and shrinks in his nakedness under the hands she lays on him. He is so vulnerable without all those layers that it tugs at her very soul and she wants to cradle him against her body and never let go. He must be so sad, so  _ empty  _ with no one to ever caress him like that.

 

He is just an overgrown boy in his nakedness, strong, firm, broad-shouldered and tall but still seems contradictory gangly and lanky as he stands somewhat hunched. It’s the image of self-consciousness if she’s ever seen it. He has no reason to be. There is so much beauty in the edges and curves of his body and she wants to tell him as much but doesn’t really know how to.

 

Rey starts by letting her hands wander down. She goes ever so slow and he watches her with baited breath as she retraces where his muscles dent in and out, downwards to his hip-bones. She picks up the trail of the slight V his body makes with one hand while the other comes to rest lightly on his hip and his erection looks hard as a rock, peeking up between them. Rey looks straight into his eyes when she takes him in her grip. 

 

Ben responds with inhaling harshly and his eyelids flutter but he keeps them peeled anyway. A wave of her very own pleasure makes her stifle a sigh and she twists her wrist for a better handle on his flesh. Soft, firm strokes, upward and downward follow and she counts how many times she can do this before he has to close his eyes. By the fifth time she has covered his whole length, he gives up and tilts his hips forward, bucking into her palm.

 

Their bodies shiver together and she does not know who started it but it spurns her on, makes the grasp tighten and the speed of her movements increase drastically. He jerks under her fingers but she wants him to last and if she can’t kiss him where she in all honesty wants to, she’ll do it where she  _ can _ . 

 

The floor under her knees is decked with mute-coloured carpets and so she is comfortable settling in in front of his hips. He glances down at her, with an adorable sort of befuddlement, as if he can’t believe this is really happening. This expression turns into a twisted grimace when she flicks her tongue lightly over the head of his cock for the first time. His soft and salty skin gives a little way under the pressure of her lips as she closes them around him, careful not to bring teeth into the mix and she hollows her cheeks to  _ suck _ . 

 

He quivers into and onto her immediately, loses his balance and ends up angled into a weird pose, hips bucking against her face and back bent, his hands on her shoulders. So desperate for something to hold onto as his knees begin to shake.

“Fuck,” he curses through gritted teeth, followed by choking, strangled little noises that speak of effort and exaltation. He scratches her skin, digging his fingernails hard into her flesh and she isn’t sure if he even notices it. It’s difficult moving her head, cheeks tickled by his hair and caught between his bending body like this but she does her best. The way he thrusts into her mouth with no distinguishable pace, she knows he won’t last much longer anyway.

 

When the moment comes, she feels the familiar jerking of hard flesh like the tide rolling in. This would be the moment she’d remove her lips from any other man, replace them with fingers again and stroke them to finish but this time, she keeps him there. With one final push forward, he spills into her mouth, more a whimper than a moan breaking from his lips and she sucks him off, sucks him  _ dry _ , while he writhes and withers above her.

“Oh, fuck,” he winces when she breaks away from him with a lewd, smacking sound and looks down at her as if she is possibly magic. “Fuck.”

 

His face is blazing, awoken somehow and Rey senses he will never really be the same - and this is just  _ foreplay _ .

 

“I didn’t know, I always just imagined…,” he stammers when helps her back onto her feet, not finishing the sentence.

“That it felt like that?” She offers and runs her hand up and down the arm he used to pull her up with.

He nods weakly: “I thought I might die.”

“They do call it the little death,” she smirks and notes that this is the longest he has spoken yet. “It would’ve been nice to see your face. I liked how you looked when you came last time, upstairs in the club.”

His cheeks flush in time with his eyes springing wide open, humiliation pushing onto the sated look on his face. 

 

“You knew that I…?” He is ashamed and mortified and there is something like anger tucking at the corner of his eyes.

“I see it everyday,” she hurries to say, “no need to feel embarrassed. I told you I liked it. I’d like to see it again.”

“I,” he hesitates again and then glances down at himself and then squeezes his eyes shut, pained and abashed, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Trust me you do,” she smiles and pinches him in the arm lightly to bring his focus back to her. “Do you know what you’re into? What gets you off?”

 

He seems puzzled with that question and then thinks for a moment.

“ _ You _ , so far” he says, honest like a child and she has to giggle, low and throaty but still too innocent-sounding for what they’re all doing here.

“We’ll see if we can’t find some other things you like.”

 

He stands there for a second while she climbs back on the bed and she can tell he is still not comfortable being naked. His arms all but twitch and she thinks he might cover himself up any second.

“Come here,” she says before he can. “Lie down.” And he heeds that command as well. “Now fold your hands under your head and keep them there,” she says, “do not move, can you do that for me?”

 

Ben nods, getting into the position she wants him in and she kneels beside him, hovers with each arm placed at either side of his torso for support. Rey dips her head lower, until she almost touches him but  _ doesn’t _ . Instead she stays there, letting the current between them sizzle, then charr and then build up until it becomes almost audible. He strains upward when it becomes to much.

“Na ah ah,” she says wickedly, “I said don’t move.” He stiffens and she continues up, to his neck and does the same thing there. He breathes heavily, to the point where she thinks he might pass out and so she relents, swiping her tongue over his pulse point and he  _ whines _ . 

 

“Still”, she whispers hotly against his skin and has to keep from touching herself to the sounds he makes. “I want you to stay exactly where you are and  _ watch me _ .”

 

Rey sits up again and he is being a very good boy, following her every move with clouded, dark eyes. She moves one hand down his body with that same suspended near-touch. She can feel his body heat emanate, radiate hotter even when she arrives over his middle. He is not blinking when she curls her fingers as if she would touch him there again. His cock twitches, visibly and his face breaks into a growl.

 

“I could have you beg now,” she says huskily, “is that right?”

“Yes,” he answers, barely audible and the veins in his broad arms pound from his restraint.

“You like being teased,” she states then, as a way of keeping him up to date on what his body does - as if he would need it. 

 

She moves on. Pondering what other tricks she can pull from her hat, trying to gauge what kind of person he is, what he’d lose his mind for. 

“You like it when I fist your hard cock?” She tries, crossing that invisible boundary in her head she still stumbles over to this day. Rey doesn’t care much for dirty talk, in fact, she’d rather not do it but oh so many men go crazy if she so much as says ‘fuck me’, it’s really rather laughable. “Do you think about wrecking my tight little cunt?”

 

He nods slowly but there is no huge response from either his eyes nor his body. Either he senses her discomfort or he isn’t too excited by crude language either.

“‘That too vulgar for you?” She asks and he gives the faintest nod. Somehow she likes him even more now. “I agree. I find it...uncivilized.” 

 

She waits, searches herself and finds something she actually wants to say: “I can’t wait to have you move inside me, to learn how you feel there.”

For this, he undeniably twitches and she smiles. “What do you want?”

He exhales, inhales and tries hard for her: “I want…” But gives up.

“Tell me what you want, you worm,” she breaks into a new register. “Filthy boy, you’re withering, you can’t even speak, such a pathetic -”

 

His features shift into a different gear and he nearly recoils but it’s not so much hurt as it’s fury or even rage and he trades the back of his head for the headboard for purchase, grabbing it hard with both hands while his jaw locks tight. Like that, she could be afraid of him.

“Not into being demeaned,” she notes and his features relax a bit but she goes on, trying something else, “I should have known, I’m stupid scum, I’m not worthy of you. I deserve your anger, your  _ punishment _ .”

“Stop that,” he says as his arms fall from the board so he can touch her wrist and he seems almost offended, “I’m not into  _ that _ . You don’t like talking about yourself that way and it gives me nothing. And none of it’s true.”

 

“Okay,” she says, oddly touched by his insistence and shifts, lower, to her side. She nudges his arm out of the way to lie beside him, propping herself up on her elbow for support while she runs her fingers through his hair soothingly. 

“I want,” he begins and then plucks up the courage to go on, “I want to feel  _ save _ .”

And just like that, her heart breaks although she doesn’t understand why exactly. 

 

What must his life be like if all this man who seems so imposing, so intimidating on the outside just wants than shelterdness from her in the privacy of the night and how lonely must he be that he had to come here for it in the first place? 

_ Maybe just as lonely as I am _ , she thinks and finds a strange sort of comfort in that.

 

“You are,” she whispers and again this urge to kiss him drowns out even her strongest yearning for release. She wants to bend over him, to keep and shield him, more than she wants him to bend over  _ her _ and fuck her blind. She wants that as well but not so prominently in that moment. “Nothing happens here that you don’t want, we make the rules here. This is a safe place.”

“Is it?” He asks. “For you?”

 

There are two questions in there, one being: Are you safe in Plutt’s establishment? The second is: Do you feel safe with me?

“As safe as I’ll ever be,” and then adds because she senses he needs to hear it somehow though she doesn’t know why: “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Good,” he says, and then in a smaller voice; “Please touch me again.”

She does, taking her sweet time just to smooth out his hair peacefully, almost adoring. She moves on to his forehead, then down to his chest, feeling it rise and fall slow at first but then quicker when she starts nibbling at his shoulders.

“Oh,” he sounds so young and pleading, like the possibility just crossed his mind for the first time, “Bite me,  _ please _ .”

 

Rey complies, biting down hard and he comes alive under her touch, spinning and finally wrapping those arms around her, to guide, to support and he exposes all the places he wants her to mark him. She does  _ mark _ him and truthfully, she might get in a little over her head because eventually, she can taste iron on her tongue. She’s broken his skin with her very own fervour. She lifts her head to apologize but Ben is gone somewhere she didn’t have a chance to follow and sure enough, he is well and hard again, throbbing visibly.

“Ben,” she gently coaxes him out of his trance, “you can do it to me if you like.”

This is also unusual. Or better absolutely unheard of, she had never offered this to anybody and has been known to smack people over the head if they’d tried on their own. She shouldn’t want him to do it in the first place, but she is too crazed and too craving to care now. She wants this, she thinks she might even  _ need _ it.

 

She hardly blinks and he is on her, covering her with his body and his length is trapped between their bellies like a promise. But she can’t think about that promise now, she is utterly distracted because he doesn’t bite her at all. 

 

_ He kisses her _ . Kisses her neck, down to her collarbone and his lips are even softer than she thought, plump and luscious and  _ heavens _ , she never wants him to stop. There can be nothing more exhilarating than this. She believes this fervently right until he  _ does _ bite and she’s proven wrong. She arches into him, forgetting that this is a job, forgetting where she is, forgetting her own name. He bites her skin so harshly and sucks it in so fiercely, she’ll be black and blue come morning but she couldn’t care less. Let her bruise, let him bruise her, let it be her story, a memory she can hold on to. When everything falls, she’ll still have the remnants of his marks on her, the dents of his teeth and the ghost of his hot, wet mouth. He growls like a feral animal in face of her eagerness.

 

“Please, are you ready?” And thus the world shifts as she is the one  _ begging _ .

He moans in response and shifts downward, just so. His cock is pressed flush between her legs and he rubs himself against her warmth until her fingers dance against his skin so he moves and leaves her enough room to put the wrapper on him. It’s been sitting on the nightstand, waiting to be required.

 

When this is done, he tries pushing in blindly but meets resistance because the angle isn’t right. He stops his assault on her neck and ear to pout and groan impatiently, his frustration seeping through to her but she shushes him gently and tilts her hip upward so they are aligned just right.

“There,” she says, “try to pace yourself, savour it, don’t lose your head.”

 

He heeds her words and  _ slides _ in slowly and tauntingly and Rey groans. Hungrily, she grabs his body anywhere she can reach. It’s instant frenzy, it’s  _ everything _ . He fits perfectly inside her and shakes and shivers with pleasure as he tries to measure his strokes.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck yes, _fuck yes_ ,” he pants into the crook of her neck and it nearly unravels her. She joins him at every thrust and she is building up so quickly that she knows they’ll finish too soon and might even as one. 

He rolls his body against hers in a motion so slick and graceful, she realises immediately he’s a natural at this. And he holds her like no one has before, touches her with an intent that goes beyond just consuming, just collecting a paid good. He wants her, wants  _ Rey _ and everything she is. She has never been more sure of anything in her life. Something springs alive in her then that feels bigger than sex, bigger than the two of them even. The connection to him blossoms, forced on and festering deeper by the motions of their bodies entwined and she could  _ weep _ . For the first time in forever she doesn’t feel alone anymore. 

 

He goes faster, fast enough for them to hear their hips clash and their flesh smack together, back and forth. In and out, again, again, again. And he still has enough hold on his wits to bite down hardly on her pulse point. 

 

_ Again, again, again, again _ . 

 

She is spiraling and some time between his teeth breaking her skin to now, she has started moaning at a frequency that should carry down the hall. He is still cursing under his breath, past parted lips and gnawing teeth. Then his hips buck out of rhythm, jerking uncontrollably and Rey is over. 

 

He pounds into her harder than before as she comes tumbling, thundering, tight walls clenching around him as he too, flings himself over the edge and into oblivion, joining her there.

 

When he pulls out, some breathless moments later, neither of them can say anything for a solid minute of just panting and trying to regain some dim grasp on reality.

 

“Fuck,” he says flopping down beside her, as if his vocabulary is reduced to only the curse. “I want to do nothing else for the rest of my life.”

Rey laughs, spent and satisfied and actually cuddles into his side. She never does that. But then again she also never sucks off the guys she’s with to the finish, never lets them mark her, never shows them just quite so much of her true self and is never ever overcome by the wild urge to kiss and hold and caress and just sleep nestled into someone’s arms.

 

“Don’t fall asleep,” he mumbles urgently, sensing her calm, “please.”

_ This can’t end yet _ , hangs unspoken in the air between them. He is preaching to the choir.

“Not a chance,” she smiles and wonders if this is what it feels like to look forward to sleeping with someone you actually want to sleep with.

 

When the night ends, he is reluctant, or rather, entirely unwilling to go. Once they are dressed again, he looks at her as if he is deliberating just taking her with him and she finds that she doesn’t hate the thought. Not at all.

 

“You are always welcome back here,” she says and it’s the first time she means the stupid line they are supposed to give each customer.

“I will be,” he says in earnest. “Tomorrow. Are you... _ free _ tomorrow?”

“I can make it so,” she smiles and it’s real. If she tells Plutt that she can get two crimsons in a row, he’ll let her skip the dancing. The man nods and turns to open the door.

 

“Ben, wait,” she says, because she is temporarily insane and she can’t let him go yet. When he halts, his hand on the handle, she runs over to him and kisses him flat on the mouth with no warning.

 

His lips are soft, like a pillow and big, quivering as they happen on hers. And he kisses her back hungrily, catching her bottom lip between his teeth and then replacing them with his tongue, pushing up into her mouth. It’s a little clumsy and she wonders if it’s also the first time for him ever kissing someone’s lips. She doesn’t mind, he is good at it. These lips of his are made for what they’re doing and it’s so worth breaking the rules for. They kiss for longer than should be acceptable and she ends it eventually because she either has to throw him out or fuck him again, and he hasn’t payed for that. And this is something she truly has never done before; to have sex with someone on her own time. 

 

So he has to go.

 

He comes back the next three nights. They have sex and they kiss and they talk, about everything and nothing, her and his childhood, how his father was always gone and how his mother sent him away, how she loves tinkering with mechanical appliances, how he found purpose within the First Order, how he hopes to restore order to the galaxy and give people a reliable governance. He tells her about the Force and shows her how he commands it, says that he can feel it in her too.

 

Rey chuckles at this but he is adamant.

“I mean it,” he says, retracing the curves of her body with elegant, leisurely fingers, “you are the most Force-sensitive person I’ve come across in years. I could teach you.”

“I fear I’m all taught-up,” she says, but there is temptation in his offer. However, Plutt wouldn’t let her. It would mean too much personal time and he doesn’t like it when girls get attached to customers, it sours the profits and he hates that. He is already weary enough of Kylo Ren coming back so often as it is. 

 

So Rey distracts the man by her side by taking his length in her hands and moving down to devour him until he can’t think anymore.

 

On the third night, when Ben is buried deep inside her, thrusting and pumping away with a grace and skill he has picked up remarkably fast, the door to their suite flies open with a violent bang and Ben scurries away from her, still slick and hard, and hurries to throw her a blanket and cover himself.

 

“Impressive, Ren,” says the man who barged in on them rolling his eyes and looks over to Rey quickly. It’s the ginger, the one who’d used the blue pass on her the first time Ben came. “But you don’t need to cover her up, I’ve seen it all, remember? It’s so pathetically predictable of you to collect my spoils.”

 

Ben snarls and it’s an ugly sound, one that should have no place in their bed.

“What do you want?”

“I’m here to collect you on behalf of Supreme Leader Snoke,” the other replies disdainfully. “There are some developments concerning the map.”

Ben growls but sits up, puts his pants on and doesn’t catch the moment that the ginger fumbles with his belt.

 

“But I guess we have some time,” he says, leering down at Rey as if she was a piece of tasty meat that already belonged to him, and she is repulsed. “You can watch again, Ren, got you all hot and bothered last time, didn’t it, her little whore’s cunt stretched around my dick?”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Ben says and suddenly he is standing up beside the bed, walking forward to shield the line of view towards her. “You’re not gonna touch her.”

“Oh, are we being possessive?” The ginger snickers, “You know I can just  _ buy _ her services, hell, maybe I’ll take her off your hands for a night and break her in a little, introduce her to the darker pleasures of the likes of us, what do you say?”

 

And then suddenly Ben’s arm flies up and the ginger man’s eyes bulge. He coughs and clutches his throat in horror and Rey tries to see beyond Ben’s form because she doesn’t understand.

“If you so much as lay eyes on her ever again in your life, I will kill you,” Ben grits out and Rey thinks that he is doing this; he is choking the man without even putting a finger on him. 

After this, he lets go and the ginger scrambles, face red with humiliation and fear, but he also doesn’t look at her again before they leave. Ben pushes him out and says to her from the door, his other clothes gathered in his arms and his face ashen and crumbled: “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. But I’ll come back for you. I promise.” 

 

It takes three months. And whenever she isn’t drugged up, she is worried sick about him and whenever some guy comes in her, she gets a little more disgusted with her job. She doesn’t want their hands on her anymore, even when she is trembling from desire from The Potion, the only thing that makes her go through with her tasks is imagining she is doing it with Ben.

 

When he comes back finally, she kisses him in the middle of the club, full on the mouth, without a care in the world. She’ll probably be black and blue for it byPlutt’s hands but she doesn’t mind at all.

“Rey, can we talk somewhere?” He asks her once the kiss ends, talking loudly to drown out the music. She nods and pulls him to one of the back rooms for red passes. The music is still loud in her but duller, less numbing.

 

Only now does she see the scar splitting his face and she clasps her hands over her mouth in shock.

“What happened to you?” she gasps and feels bad for kissing him, because surely his face must hurt like hell.

“My uncle,” he says, “It’s a long story.”

“I have time,” she says and takes his hand. He’s told her of his fucked up family, but he hadn’t mentioned an uncle before, let alone one who could do this to him.

 

“Yes, maybe,” he says and then takes a deep breath, as if he is holding something close to his chest. “I...um...Rey, I  _ bought _ you. Your freedom I mean. You’re no longer a part of this house.”

She looks at him, instantly befuddled because how is that possible? She hadn’t considered that this was even a possibility. But sure...if Plutt could sell everything else she had, he’d surely sell her too, if the price was right. She wonders briefly how much her life had been worth to the sod, but finds she doesn’t really care.

“You can go,” Ben continues, “anywhere I mean. I can give you enough money so you can set yourself up anywhere on Coruscant you like.”

He searches her face while he talks and she envisions a life that is all her own, where she can do whatever she pleases, where she’ll never have to sleep with anyone ever again if she doesn’t want to and she wants to cry.

“Or,” he says now and it snaps her focus back to him, “and if you want to say no, that’s...okay. You could come with me. There’s a planet in the outer rim where someone owes me a favour. I could buy you a house there, with a garden and a shed. There aren’t many other sentient beings there but those that are, are good, kind people. You’d like them. And I could come see you whenever I have the time and we would be... _ together _ . I could teach you the ways of the Force. But you don’t have to say yes, I understand if you want to be on yo-”

“Hey,” she interjects, smiles warmly at him and can’t really believe her dumb luck. “You had me at ‘come with me’.”

 

He stops breathing for half a second and then tilts his head. “So you’ll come?”

“Yes,” she laughs, “of course, I’ll come.”

 

Rey, just Rey, leaves Coruscant with Ben that very night and never looks back. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...are you satisfied? I'm happy about every review and comment <3

**Author's Note:**

> Okay...so...could you handle the filth-level?


End file.
